


Two is Better Than One

by LettersToShakespear



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Aha, Bilbo is not the omega, Canon Divergence, First time writing these characters, M/M, Omega Verse, Prompt Fill, Sexy Times, Shameless Smut, idek anymore, pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersToShakespear/pseuds/LettersToShakespear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a gift fic for Reyeslord on tumblr who was the lucky winner of my giveaway! Shameless smut and omega-verse lies ahead! Enough said ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two is Better Than One

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first time writing anything other than Fili/Kili so please don't hate :*) aha! Hopefully it came out all right, because I definitely enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Also, sorry for any mistakes! Enjoy! <3

Bofur never meant to fall in love with Thorin Oakenshield, Alpha and King under the mountain. He’d never meant to fall in love with black hair striped with grey, ice blue eyes that could pierce the soul.

 

He was a simple man, one who loved his family and tinkered away at toys for dwarven children. He’d been content with his life in Ered Luin, watching Thorin and his nephews from afar. Their blood was as blue as the summer skies.

 

No one knew that he lusted after Thorin, he hid it well enough behind his boisterous personality and charming wit. Yet every time he saw Thorin at the local pubs drinking a beer, or leaving the smithy across the way streaked in grime, hair pulled back in a grubby ponytail.

 

It only made sense, then, that he said yes to join the quest to reclaim Erebor. Not only would it allow him to get closer to Thorin, it would give him a chance for glory, for some greater purpose in life. He was, after all, an Omega, and he wanted to find his own glory before he was expected to settle down and bear children.

 

Bofur hoped that maybe, finally, this quest would give him the chance to get close to Thorin, to at the very least become his friend. He’d imagined many different scenarios in his mind of how the quest would pan out. One thing that he hadn’t considered, however, was the presence of one hobbit.

 

Bilbo Baggins was, quite simply, a masterpiece. At first sight, the hobbit seemed to be a timid thing, golden curls and pleasant of face. Yet soon enough, Bofur, along with everyone else in the company, learned that Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit that meant business.

 

That’s not to say that Bilbo wasn’t a prim and proper thing, but he had a temper that could rival Thorin’s, as well as a streak of rebellion. Bilbo Baggins was one Beta that was not to be messed with.

 

Before he even knew it, Bofur was half head over heels, constantly worrying about where Bilbo was and if he were all right. During the quest, he made sure that he was the one that looked after the hobbit. He slept beside him every night, made sure that he stayed warm and that he had plenty handkerchiefs from the scraps of Bofur’s shirt.

 

And one night, resting in the dark of night, orange flames flickering low as the fire died down, Bofur found him self sitting beside the hobbit whilst keeping watch. He can no longer remember what they had been talking about, just that Bilbo had made some dry comment that left him laughing silently as tears poured from the corners of his eyes.

 

When he looked up, he’d been surprised to see the hobbit so close to him, eyes going wide when soft lips pressed against his own. He spared a flash of thought towards Thorin before he was completely thrown out of Bofurs’ mind. How could he think of the dark, brooding King, when Bilbo sat beside him, lips moving softly against his own. Witty, loyal Bilbo who pulled at the straps of Bofurs hat, pulling him close to deepen their kiss.

 

They’d had that one night of heated kisses before everything went to hell. Everything turned into chaos when the realized that Azog and his bunch were after them again, running through the woods until they reached the safety of Beorn’s home. Mirkwood was filled with it’s own horrors, and then the events of Laketown. There was no time for anything else, just the mad rush to stay alive and reach Erebor before Durin’s Day.

 

And manage it they did, only for Thorin to allow himself to be taken over by the gold sickness, mind swallowed down into the depths of madness. Bilbo was banished soon after, and Bofur was left in a hazy mess of wanting to follow after Bilbo, but also unable to leave the Dark King that a piece of him still loved.

 

So he stayed, partook in the battle and managed to stay alive, only to find Thorin had barely made it out alive, trying desperately to cling to life. Fili and Kili were no better off. All three dwarves of the Line of Durin were mangled, blood seeping from wounds and bodies pale as milk.

 

Looking at them this way, seeing them struggle for life, made Bofur feel numb, like there was nothing good in the world that could from such horror. He was wrong, once more, for a familiar golden hobbit made his way back, despite his banishment by the King of Erebor.

 

* * *

 

He would like to say that he got his happily ever after once the Battle of Five Armies was over, but alas, Aulë seemed to love playing cruel tricks upon him. The Line of Durin grew stronger with each passing day, and with each one, Thorin made it his personal duty to make his apologies to the hobbit.

 

Bofur was left to watch Bilbo and Thorin, watch their hesitant friendship bud and bloom into something brilliant. It made his heart ache to watch. He wanted to say something, to Thorin or to Bilbo, to yell and scream’ _“Don’t you know that I’m in love with you? Both of you!? Won’t you even see me!?”_

 

It took him months to build up the courage to speak to Thorin and Bilbo, hands nervously playing with his hat as he walked towards the room that Thorin dwelled within until the rest of Erebor could be repaired.

 

He wasn’t prepared for the sounds that he heard outside of the door, low moans and garbled words, high whimpers and a low growl that rumbles through the walls. Bofur feels his heart plummet, eyes going wide when the harsh smell of Alpha and Beta floating down the way.

 

He is Omega, and the scent calls to him.

 

But he can’t bring himself to leave. He stands outside the door, and he listens, mouth drying he listens to the words coming from the room.

 

“Why didn’t you _hn,_ tell me you were going into a rut?” Thorin grunts the words out, the sound of wood skittering along the floor as he thrusts into Bilbo. Bofur can picture it in his mind; the site of Bilbo spread out upon the bed, legs up in the air as Thorin thrusted his length within, sweat dripping down the corded muscles of his back hair hanging in tangled black waves.

 

“D-didn’t – oh _fuck_ \- forgot all about my cycle with how mad things have been,” Bilbo growls, the sound of his voice being drowned out by the continued screeching of the bed.

 

No one can really blame Bofur for the stirring of his groin, the coils of heat that being to curl through his body, warming his flesh and causing his cheeks to turn a brilliant pink. Anyone could catch him like this, standing outside of the King’s door, listening to him mate with Bilbo.

 

But that’s part of the thrill, isn’t it? Getting caught listening while his hand is beneath the cloth of his pants, fingers grasped around his length as he pumps smoothly to the sounds within, the image inside of his head.

 

So he imagines the way that Bilbo must be panting, golden curls plastered to the sides of his face, pert little nipples standing in the air and stretched pink pucker _clenching_ around Thorin’s girth. A girth that must be thick and strong, ever so proud and surrounded by a thatch of dark hair.

 

Bofurs fingers swirl around the tip of his cock, gathering precum to ease the way as he jerks off, teeth biting at his lips to hold back the sounds that he so desperately wants to make. Thorin makes another grunting noise behind the wooden door. If Bofur listens hard enough, he can hear the sweaty slap of skin against skin, sounds of Bilbo whimpering with each rhythmic thrust.

 

His own cock is throbbing within his breeches, stomach aching with the low boiling heat that is coming up from his insides. Bofur keeps thinking of all the things he would love to do to Bilbo, to Thorin. Hell, he can’t stop thinking about what he wants them to do to him!

 

Fingers curl tighter and he fists himself to the images and thoughts that swirl around in his mind, eyes squeezed shut and light pants escaping his lips. His hole has started to drip heavily with slick, the wetness trailing down his thighs. He doesn’t realize that the sounds within the room have stopped, concentrating to hard on what he sees inside of his mind.

 

When the door flings open, he doesn’t have a single moment to pull himself together. Eyes are wide, pupils blown; hand still down his pants and firmly grasping at his weeping cock. And Thorin… Oh, he looks just as delectable as Bofur always thought he would; body glistening with sweat, eyes dark and cock long and proud. How is the toymaker ever supposed to stop himself from taking a look?

 

It takes a few quiet moments for the reality of the situation to come crashing down, mouth parting in a wide oh as he looks frantically around because _Mahal_ he didn’t want to be caught, and all he can smell is the thick scent of Alpha, the tinge of Beta and his body _yearns_ to be touched.

 

“Bofur. Care to join?”

 

Silence. Complete, one hundred percent silence, and he doesn’t know what to say, or do, not until Bilbo is pushing past Thorin, pupils blown and the smell wafting off of him! The scent of Beta is delicious, and Bofur can only imagine what he smells like as an Omega, wet with slick and body on edge.

 

“You’ve broken him, you brute. Shoo, let me… hmm…”

 

Bilbos words peter off, pink tongue licking his lips as he steps forward, sniffing at the scent that Bofur is putting off into the air. Fingers wrap around his wrist, tug him into the room and the door is slamming behind them.

 

“Bed. I want you in bed this instant, Bofur, with you clothes off.”

 

Bilbo is single minded in his wants, hands tugging and pulling at the clothes that cover Bofur’s body. But Bilbo is beginning to growl, hands moving to rub at the toymakers thighs with steady hands.

 

“Thorin, take his clothes off, oh good _lord_ do you smell so delicious Bofur, both of you smell simply _delectable_.”

 

The King growls, but does as Bilbo says, which is surprising to Bofur, even in his state of arousal. The toymaker doesn’t question it, continues to watch Bilbo’s hands rubbing at the strained muscles of his quivering thighs.

 

Yet Bofur forgets that Thorin is a possessive thing, greedy at the best of times, even before the gold lust. He’s not expecting the fingers that grasp his jaw, the lips that press against his own, teeth biting soft skin and tongue licking into the wet cavern of his mouth. It’s all down hill from there.

 

Bilbo sits up, wraps his arms around Bofur from behind and brings his slick wet hands around the Omegas throbbing cock. It’s thick and long, something that Bilbo can squeeze and rub with great satisfaction. He moans harshly into Thorin’s mouth, eyes blown wide when the King moves his head down to mouth at the column of his neck, nipping at the flesh before he straddles Bofur.

 

He can hear the sound of Bilbo and Thorin kissing over his shoulder, short pants escaping as the hobbit continues to pull and stroke at his throbbing length. Each pull brings a wave of heat that crashes through him, the scents of Alpha, Beta, and Omega perfuming the air.

 

It soon turns into a mess of limbs, bodies falling back onto the bed, hips rutting against one another and hot kisses traded between all three. Bofur can barely believe what is happening, brain trying to catch up and work through the hormones but none of it matters at all, not when he is in bed with the two men he had been lusting after for what felt like so long. At least for one of them, that is.

 

He goes with it, doesn’t question the hand that rolls his stones gently, the one he thinks belongs to Thorin, but he’s not sure. Another continues to tug away at his cock. Bofur refuses to be passive, fingers finding their way towards Bilbo’s rounded sausage of a cock, tugging it softly.

 

“Bilbo, put your back against the headboard. Bofur, in his lap.”

 

They scramble to follow directions, Bofur’s eyes glazed with lust as his body awakens even more from the sights and smells, cock hard and red against the plains of his stomach. It’s all to much, the wafting hormones and scents with no one touching him where he needs it the most.

 

An undignified moan escapes when Thorin crouches down before him, thing ring of blue visible in his eyes as he sniffs at Bofur’s skin. Bilbo’s hands snake around him to rub knowingly at his nipples, rutting up lazily against the hazy Omega.

 

And Thorin, beautiful untouchable Thorin that he has lusted after for years, crouches down before him without preamble, lips wrapping around his cock and he _keens_. He can’t stop himself from thrusting into tight wet heat, eyes rolling into the back of his skull as falls away into waves of pleasure.

 

He can tell that Bilbo is murmuring something in his ear, but he doesn’t care, body producing more and more slick as the air froths with to many scents and smells, all to sensitive to the touches that are being placed against his body.

 

Tongue drags along his frenulum, lips rubbing against the throbbing length and fingers knuckling carefully against the sensitive spot between stones and dripping hole. It takes a few well-placed pinches upon sensitive nipples, a gorgeously long suck, and he is spending his seed into Thorin’s mouth, body arching up into the mouth that tongues him through it.

 

Thorin drinks it all down, swallows every last drop and smiles with a feral look upon his face before he looks up at Bilbo. The hobbit is worrying at his lip, fingers still rubbing Bofurs pebbled nipples, eyes glued onto Thorin and what he is doing to the Omega that rests between them.

 

“Stretch him open, Thorin, he’s absolutely dripping for us.”

 

“Would you like that Bofur? For me to finger you open before I fuck you good and hard, tie you on my knot? To be bread by the King of Erebor?”

 

The words are growled into his ear, eyes going wide as he sits slack jawed, trying to think through the waves of want and need that course through his body. But there isn’t really a question of it, because he _needs_ it, needs the feeling of a thick knot, body bouncing on that gorgeous cock.

 

“Sweet Aule do I wan’ it! “

 

“Then I will give it to you, my precious Omega.”

 

Fingers trace their way down towards his hole, slick dripping out as it clenches, trying to find something to grasp onto, to suck in and cradle inside of him. Blunt fingers trace around, spare a few moments to rub at the rosy pucker before Thorin is slipping in a single finger.

 

Bilbo absolutely _coos_ at the way that Bofur whines, lips moving to suck dark bruises into the skin whilst brown eyes watch the way that Thorin fucks his finger in and out, rubbing at sensitized walls.

 

“How does it feel, Bofur? How does it feel to have your King’s finger inside of you?” Thorin growls, slips it out only to press in two. They feel thick and warm inside of Bofur, a beautiful burning stretch arching through him and he wants to rut down against them, to have a thick cock spearing him open.

 

“More! N-need more!”

 

All to happy to oblige, another finger is added, thick wet sounds the only thing to hear besides heavy panting form all three. Each thrust and curl creates a lovely squelch, an unbelievably dirty sound that leaves Bofur dripping even more. Bilbo looks on with lust filled eyes, a hand moving down to wrap around Bofur’s aching red cock.

 

“Look out how well you take him in Bofur. Look how wet and wanton you are for your King. Absolutely dripping for him, aren’t you?”

 

All that Bofur can do is whine; head thrown back as Thorin finally rubs against that magical spot, waves of pleasure and need lapping against his entire being. His lust is like greedy hands that beg for food, fingers tearing and ripping at him until he is ready to break. But he’s not quite reached that edge and he needs more. More than Bilbo’s dirty words, his voice low and dark in his ear. More than Thorin thrusting and rubbing his fingers wickedly inside of him, and certainly more than the teasing tugs upon his throbbing cock.

 

He tries to voice his needs, to beg and plead for a cock inside of himself, a knot to be caught on, but he can’t do it, words lost in the depths of his mind. Instead, Bofur whimpers and moans, rolls his hips down onto the fingers that are inside of himself, sweat covered body sliding against Bilbos skin.

 

It doesn’t take long for the two to get the picture, for Thorin to pull his fingers out with a growl before he is manipulating Bofur’s body. Haze of movement and rush of hormones, and he feels himself being pushed down into Thorin’s lap. Bilbo now sits in front of Bofur, hands spreading his thighs wide as he holds the blunt top of Thorin’s cock in his hands.

 

“Do it!” He groans, nails digging into the muscular thighs that are beneath him. Thorin grunts, lifts Bofur’s body up as Bilbo guides the Kings leaking erection to the tight wet heat that will soon engulf him. A few seconds of teasing, rubbing the rosy read tip before the ring of muscles before he lets go, helps to guide Bofur down onto the veiny, straining cock.

 

Bofur all but hisses, low burn accompanying the stretch and he _loves_ this, loves how he is pressed back against Thorin’s muscular chest, hands grasping firmly onto his hips as Bilbo watches with lust blown eyes, hand tugging quick and smooth along his cock.

 

And oh, the pulsing heat inside of himself! The hot length that he can feel twitching against his walls, the wet gush of slick that drips around it, the excess oozing out and dribbling down onto Thorin’s thighs. Grounding himself down, he lets out a wicked groan, hands covering Thorin’s as he rocks in the Kings lap.

 

Clench of muscles, tight walls doing their best to pull Thorin further in, pools of slick and that is all that Thorin needs, the only cue left for him to pound his way into wanton Omega flesh. Muscles ripple in arms and back as he lifts Bofur up and then down back onto his cock, grunting at the hot clench.

 

Bofur tries to help, to lift himself up and fuck back down onto Thorin but he can’t, muscles lax and body like a ragdolls. He lets the King guide and manhandle him, slinging him up and down upon his cock. Thorin’s cock is so thick that each pass of the hot length slides against his prostate, pleasure building up until he is whimpering in Thorin’s lap, finally finding it within himself to bounce up and down upon his King.

 

 

Every second is filled with to much not enough, eyes blown wide and mouth open to release panting breaths. It all becomes to much when wet heat wraps around his cock once more, Bilbo’s more than expert mouth suckling away at the heated flesh.

 

“So close, Bofur, going to knot you so beautifully,” Thorn growls, hips rocking harder and faster, if that’s even possible. The world is bloated with lust and hormones, heat building deep inside of himself, burning and pulsating with every thrust and every lick. Each brush of his prostate brings him closer and closer to the edge, vision whiting out as he feels the expansion of Thorin’s knot inside, anchoring him down as ropey spend spurts into his passage, dripping out the sides and covering their lower bodies.

 

Nails scrabble into Bilbo’s hair, mouth opening on a silent shout as he rocks on Thorin’s knot, coming so hard that the edges of his vision go black, Bilbo’s mouth popping off so that white streaks splatter across his face and the sheets.

 

He’s not sure for how long it lasts after that, just knows that it isn’t his last orgasm that night. He remembers feeling Bilbo pushing inside of him, remembers hazily watching Thorin and Bilbo fucking beside him.

 

It’s a mess of lust and need, pure unadulterated want and thrown out inhibitions. It’s everything that Bofur has ever dreamed of.

 

* * *

 

 

He is surrounded by warmth, limbs tangled and warm breath ghosting along the back of his neck. It takes a few minutes for Bofur to truly wake up, basking in the content and happiness that floats through him. He can’t remember the last time that he was this happy, not since before the Quest for Erebor began at least.

 

It takes him a few minutes to truly wake up, to comprehend the events that had taken place into the wee hours of the morning. Apprehension curls in the pit of his stomach, because _surely_ there was no way that Thorin or Bilbo actually wanted anything to do with _him_. They’d smelled his Omega hormones and lost control, that had to be the reason behind their actions! Nothing else could truly explain why –

 

“Bofur, Darling, stop thinking so hard. You’re ruining my beauty sleep.”

 

Bilbo is the one who grumbles the words, rolling over to throw an arm over Bofur’s waist. Bofur can only gape in shock, eyes going wide and mouth opening to respond, but he’s cut off by Thorin.

 

“I agree with Bilbo. Sleep.”

 

“I – But- I should really be leavin’ I know tha’ you don’t actually wan’ me ‘ere and-“

 

Arms wrap tightly around him from both sides, either male grumbling as they hold onto Bofur.

 

“Don’t be daft, Bofur, we wanted you in here and we want you to stay. Besides, you’ve mated with us, you can’t get away now,” Bilbo huffs.

 

“How is this suppose’ to work then? Yer tha’ King an’ I’m just a’ simple toymaker!”

 

“You are a hero of Erebor, just as Bilbo is. You are a revered member of this company, and you have helped to bring our people back to our home. There is no one more worthy than you and Bilbo. Our relationship is rare, but we will make it work. The three of us. Together.”

 

It’s nowhere near normal, bizarre and hard to wrap his mind around, but Bofur cannot truly bring himself to question the situation. These two males, his Alpha and Beta, they are his, and he is theirs. He wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
